
FRANCES M ARG A R ET- F OX 

COSY- CORNER • SER JES 



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raass Ola ti 

Book 

Copyright^ 

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MOTHER NATURE'S LITTLE ONES 



Works of 

Frances Margaret Fox 

Farmer Brown and the Birds 
The Little Giant's Neighbours 
Mother Nature's Little Ones 
Betty of Old Mackinaw 

L, C PAGE & COMPANY 

New England Building, Boston, Mass* 




SHE HAD BEEN TOLD THAT DRAGON - FLIES SEW UP 
CHILDREN'S MOUTHS" {.See page 3i) 



GTosg Corner Series 



MOTHER NATURE'S 
LITTLE ONES 



By 

Frances Margaret Fox 

Author of 

; Farmer Brown and the Birds," " The Little 

Giant's Neighbours," etc. 



Illustrated by 
Etheldred B. Barr^ . 



3 ■* > • ) > ) > l' > 3 

> > 3 i 5 3 3 3 , S j 3 1 

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Boston £,}*,£<££ 
L. C. Page & Company 
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All rights reserved 



Published July, 1903 



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Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co. 

Boston, Mass., U. S. A, 



TO 

MY LITTLE FRIEND 




CHAPTER PAGE 

I. Baby Wriggler n 

II. The Child of the Sand Wasp . .18 

III. Baby Katydid and How He Grew . 23 

IV. Whose Cradle Was Green . .31 
V. Madam Odonata's Children . .37 

VI. One of the River -babies . . .44 

VII. Baby Days of a Walking-stick . 52 

VIII. Baby and Lion 55 

IX. A Little Savage 59 

X. One of the Cicada Children . . 62 

XL A Water -baby 66 

XII. The Giant's Baby 73 

XIII. The Tiger Beetle's Baby . . .82 

XIV. The Truth about Baby Tumble - bug 88 




PAGB 

"She had been told that dragon -flies 

sew up children's mouths" (Seep. 37) 

Frontispiece 
"He fell in and sent baby wriggler 

scampering to the bottom" . . 13 

Baby Wriggler 16 

" Just getting ready to show the other 

grasshoppers how far he could jump " 20 
" Half the family were eaten before 

spring by chickadees" .... 25 

May - flies Dancing 46 

Walking-stick 52 

"Along came an ant" 57 

Water -babies ....... 67 

11 A Schoolboy visited the pond " 79 



MOTHER NATURE'S LITTLE 
ONES 



CHAPTER I. 



BABY WRIGGLER 



She was one of the most restless babies that 
ever lived in a rain barrel. Just what games 
she played through the long days with her 
three hundred brothers and sisters and their 
many cousins, only her mother or some other 
mosquito could have guessed. Not that the 
mother mosquito ever troubled herself to look 
into the rain barrel to see how her children 
were getting along, but having been just such 
a baby once, she may have known. 

At the same time there is no use of asking 
a mosquito any questions. The only thing to 



ii 



12 MOTHER NATURES LITTLE ONES 

do is to look into the rain barrel for one's self. 
That's what the little boy was doing when he 
fell in and sent baby Wriggler scampering to 
the bottom. The mosquito children must have 
thought for a second that the sky had fallen, 
until some one pulled the dripping boy out of 
their nursery, giving them a, chance to get 
another breath of air. 

Strange as it may seem, every mosquito 
child in the barrel had to rise to the surface 
of the water when he wished to breathe. Per- 
haps that is why baby Wriggler was so rest- 
less. One minute she had to be at the top of 
the barrel for air: the next minute in the 
depths below diving after something to eat. 
Enough to keep any one busy. 

Then, too, baby Wriggler was a happy-go- 
lucky little creature and seemed to be always 
darting about just for the fun of it. She could 
turn somersaults to perfection or stand on 
her head until she was out of breath and had 
to go for more air as fast as she could paddle. 

There were two games baby Wriggler and 
her friends certainly did play, whatever the 
grown-up mosquitoes may say about it on 
summer evenings when they seem to be so 




" HE FELL IN AND SENT BABY WRIGGLER SCAMPER- 
ING TO THE BOTTOM " 



BABY WRIGGLER I 5 

talkative. One was a racing game. The 
babies formed in circles at the top of the rain 
barrel and at a given signal started for the 
bottom to see who could reach it first. Baby 
Wriggler never beat at that game because she 
was such a little fuss-budget and wasted too 
much time darting from side to side instead 
of going straight ahead. Another game was 
to see who could go the longest without air. 
It was enough to make any one laugh to see 
the scamps rush to the surface of the water 
when they couldn't stay below another second. 
Baby Wriggler never beat at that game either. 

There were other times when it seemed as 
if the mosquito children were trying to play 
circus ; but surely that was impossible, as none 
of them had ever been to a circus nor had they 
even seen a parade. Everybody knows, though, 
that grown-up mosquitoes go to circuses, and 
after all it may be that baby Wriggler's mother 
was kind enough to tell the little folks about 
it ; else how did baby Wriggler learn to mimic 
the clown? Whoever thinks a rain barrel too 
dull a place to live in, should watch mosquito 
children for half an hour. 

It isn't likely that baby Wriggler ever knew 



i6 



MOTHER NATURE S LITTLE ONES 



or cared what kind of a tiny child she was. 
Her cradle days, or rather hours, were passed 
in a raft on the surface. of the water. The 
cradle was the egg in which she was tucked 




away. The raft was nothing in the world 
but her own egg and the eggs of her three 
hundred brothers and sisters glued together 
and floating in the rain barrel. 

The mother mosquito left her family that 
way early one morning, and before sunset all 
the little folks were out of their cradles, playing 
" Tag " and exploring their nursery from top 
to bottom. Baby Wriggler wasn't the only 
active one in the family. No mosquito, big 
or little, was ever called lazy. 



BABY WRIGGLER 1/ 

Baby Wriggler had three new suits of clothes 
while she lived in the rain barrel. When she 
outgrew her dresses she simply shook them 
off, and wasn't even surprised to find ready- 
made new ones underneath. She was seven days 
old when her third new suit felt so uncomfort- 
able she took it off. Then, indeed, was baby 
Wriggler much changed. She no longer wore 
baby clothes, and she breathed in a different 
way. The mosquito child had good reason to 
wonder whether she was herself or somebody 
else. 

For two days she wouldn't play with the rest 
of the mosquito children, but stayed most of 
the time at the surface of the water. At last 
her dress began to split down the back ; slowly 
she crawled out of it, and for the first time in 
her life the mosquito child was on top of 
the water instead of under it. Stranger yet, 
her cast-off suit became a boat upon which 
she unfolded gauzy wings before flying away 
to see the bright world beyond the rain barrel. 



CHAPTER II. 

THE CHILD OF THE SAND WASP 

A great worker was Madam Sand Wasp, 
— but cross ! Oh, she was cross ! Little, and 
black and saucy, she buzzed and scolded all 
day long. Once a small boy picked her up as 
she was walking over the sand, but he dropped 
her quicker than a wink and ran screaming 
to his mother, because the Sand Wasp stung 
him — and terrible was her sting. The boy 
remembered it for a long time afterward. 

He should have let Madam Sand Wasp 
alone in the first place, because she was going 
about minding her own business and expecting 
every one else to do the same. In fact she 
said so, plainly. 

Deep in the sand she had made a burrow, 

working and digging until it was long enough 

to suit her. She had fashioned it with great 

care because it was intended for her child, and 

18 



THE CHILD OF THE SAND WASP 1 9 

whatever her faults may have been, Madam 
Sand Wasp was a good mother. When the 
burrow was entirely finished, the busy worker 
closed the opening with sand and flew away. 
There was a grasshopper down by the brook, 
just getting ready to show the other grass- 
hoppers how far he could jump, when he was 
suddenly put to sleep by Madam Sand Wasp, 
who stung him before he knew what she was 
after. He was paralyzed, poor fellow, but 
as he never realized what happened to him, 
he surely needed no pity. 

Though she had four wings, Madam Sand 
Wasp couldn't lift the grasshopper from the 
ground and fly directly to her burrow ; she had 
to climb a tree with him and fly downward 
from a branch with her heavy burden. 

It seemed wonderful that she knew where 
to look for the hidden burrow which she found 
so easily in the wide stretch of sand. Close 
beside the doorway she placed the grasshopper, 
where he lay on his back, arms folded. On his 
face, upturned to the sky, was a happy smile 
— the same smile he wore when he was going 
to show the other grasshoppers how far he 
could jump. 



20 



MOTHER NATURE S LITTLE ONES 




Madam Sand 
Wasp rapidly 
kicked the 
sand away 
from her front 
door and 
dragged Mr. 
Grasshopper 
down, head 
first, leaving 
him at the end 
of the burrow. 
Then out she 
came and 
again care- 
fully covered 
the entrance 
to the burrow 
with sand, by 
standing with 
her face away 
from the 
opening and 
kicking the 
sand with her 
hind feet. 



THE CHILD OF THE SAND WASP 21 

Twice more she returned, each time bring- 
ing a paralyzed grasshopper — and these three 
grasshoppers were for her child to eat when he 
should be big enough to come out of his egg. 
Madam Sand Wasp left the tiny egg near the 
neck of the middle grasshopper. 

The reason she was so careful to close the 
burrow every time she went out was because 
she feared some other child would be left by his 
mother to eat her child's grasshopper, and she 
didn't want the little fellow to share with any 
one. 

It wasn't long before the child of the Sand 
Wasp came out of his egg and began to eat. 
He didn't mind being in the dark a bit — 
didn't cry for his mother once — just ate and 
kept still like a good baby. 

He wasn't a nice appearing baby — looked 
too much like a tiny white worm to be exactly 
pleasing, though the reason his mother kept 
him out of sight was because she thought the 
child was safer hidden away in the ground. 
She didn't dream for a minute that he wasn't 
a pretty baby. 

The little fellow grew rapidly and soon be- 
came too big and stupid to keep on eating. 



22 MOTHER NATURE S LITTLE ONES 

He felt as if he must make himself a bed and 
take a long nap. Nobody taught the child 
of the Sand Wasp how to spin a silken sheet 
in which to wrap himself, but he did it, and 
if a great deal of sand and dirt got mixed 
with the sheet, he didn't care, he was too 
sleepy. 

The sheet in which the baby took his long 
nap was called a cocoon, and when at last he 
was tired of resting in the cocoon and came 
out of it, he no longer looked like a small, white 
worm, but was dressed in a new suit of clothes. 
These clothes were soon outgrown and the 
child of the Sand Wasp left his underground 
home, wearing black the rest of his days, after 
the fashion of all the grown folks in his 
family. 



CHAPTER III. 

BABY KATYDID AND HOW HE GREW 

Baby Katydid kept perfectly still, all winter 
long. He couldn't help it, to be sure, because 
in an egg-shell he was snuggled down in his 
cradle with thirty brothers and sisters. The 
mother Katydid wouldn't have thought of 
crowding so many children together in one 
cradle if they hadn't been in egg-shells, because 
baby katydids are lively little scamps after 
they get out of their shells, and she knew it. 

The cradle was a tiny twig : one the mother 
selected in September. She had bitten, chewed, 
and pressed the bark so the children couldn't 
roll out of bed as they might have done if the 
twig had been left smooth. The winter wind 
is a rough nurse, so the mother Katydid, know- 
ing that he would rock the cradle whenever 
he chose, and having no way to tie her children 

23 



24 MOTHER NATURE S LITTLE ONES 

in, fastened them in place with mucilage of her 
own making. 

Baby Katydid's mother died when the cold 
weather came, as did all the grown-up katydids 
in the world. Only the little fellows in the 
eggs lived through the winter. 

As baby Katydid had at least one hundred 
and fifty brothers and sisters in near-by cradles, 
he had no reason to feel deserted, even though 
half the family were eaten before spring by 
chickadees and other folks who were always 
hungry. 

Long after the snow had melted and the 
early flowers were in bloom, baby Katydid be- 
came restless. He was warm and uncomfort- 
able. The egg-shell was so tight he couldn't 
stir in it. Though the little fellow didn't real- 
ize it, he had been growing fast through the 
sunny days and had outgrown his baby clothes 
and the egg-shell, too. 

When he could endure his prison no longer, 
baby Katydid began struggling to get out of 
his shell. He pushed and kicked and squirmed, 
until at last the egg burst open at the top and 
down the side. Even then baby Katydid 
couldn't get out without tearing his clothes, 




11 HALF THE FAMILY WERE EATEN BEFORE SPRING 
BY CHICKADEES " 



BABY KATYDID AND HOW HE GREW 2J 

and when he finally walked into the sunshine, 
his baby clothes, bonnet and all, were left 
sticking to the egg-shell. He was pleased 
with the new suit in which he found himself 
dressed, oh, wonderfully pleased, — green 
trousers and little green blouse — what could 
be nicer? 

Baby Katydid looked at the tiny egg-shell 
and then he looked at himself. He was more 
than an inch in length, and it did seem strange 
how his long, stiff legs and plump little body 
could ever have been folded inside that shell. 

He began to leap for joy. Then he felt 
hungry and ate the tender young leaves every- 
where about him. 

A happy young Katydid was he with noth- 
ing to do but eat and grow. He wasn't wise 
enough to fear his enemies, the birds, and 
enjoyed every minute of his life. He played 
games with his brothers and sisters on bright 
summer days, and the game he liked the best 
of all was " Jump over the caterpillar " — 
those poor old caterpillars who crawled so 
slowly along. 

In a few weeks baby Katydid again outgrew 
his clothes : they were so tight he had to stop 



28 MOTHER NATURE'S LITTLE ONES 

eating before he had enough. When the small 
green blouse could hold him no longer, it split 
open. Then baby Katydid managed to get free 
from his old clothes by kicking, pulling, and 
twisting until he was all out of breath. The 
little fellow never appeared in rags. So neat 
was he that he even ate his old clothes the 
minute he was through with them. 

By the end of June, the Katydid child had 
his fourth new suit. No one would have 
thought of calling him a baby then. This new 
suit was unlike the others because it hid the 
beginnings of wings. The young Katydid 
became too dignified to play " Jump the cater- 
pillar " ever again. He longed to fly, and his 
little face had a remarkably wise look. 

He knew that wings were growing beneath 
his new coat, and though he tried and tried to 
get out of it, he had to wear it until he grew 
much bigger. Some of his brothers and sisters 
had appeared in wings and he wished to join 
them in the air. He no longer thought it a 
fine thing to leap about the bushes and in the 
grass, and was ever so glad when his coat 
became too tight to be comfortable. 



BABY KATYDID AND HOW HE GREW 29 

At last the day came when the Katydid 
took off his fifth suit. He was alarmed for a 
moment. He had wings, but they hung damp 
and shapeless by his sides. He couldn't fly. 
Slowly the wings began to dry and harden, and 
the Katydid took courage. 

Wonderful were the wings of the Katydid. 
Just at first, there was no colour in the front 
pair — they were clear as glass : but slowly 
they became green like the leaves, with beauti- 
ful veins and markings. Beneath them were 
broad under wings that folded like fans. The 
Katydid could fly at last. 

Soon afterward he discovered his music-box. 
By partly opening his wing covers with a sud- 
den jerk, and then closing them slowly, he 
could sing the song of the Katydid. He kept 
his music-box going nearly all the time after 
that, so delighted was he to be a musician on 
wings. 

The Katydid's life ever after was full of 
adventure, because wherever he went, by night 
or day, the birds were after him : they wanted 
to eat the dainty creature, music-box and all. 
Yet he was happy and lived to a good old 



30 MOTHER NATURE S LITTLE ONES 

age — lived until Jack Frost came down from 
the North and said that summer was over, when 
all Katydids closed their music-boxes and fell 
asleep. 



CHAPTER IV. 

WHOSE CRADLE WAS GREEN 

Such a nuisance was the Pear Slug baby. 
Nobody liked him or wanted to look at him 
twice. In the first place his mother gave him 
a long name — too long for any use, so after a 
while she called him Limax for short. Then 
some one thought that name too pretty for 
the ugly little fellow, and because Limax and 
Slug mean the same thing, they called him 
Slug without saying a word to his mother 
about it. 

There might have been loud buzzing in the 
air if the dainty lady had ever heard of it, 
for she was a careful mother and at one time 
seemed to think a great deal of that same 
young Limax of hers. She may have known 
that he would grow better looking as the 
months went by. Plenty of folks were homely 
enough when they were babies, and much 

31 



32 MOTHER NATURES LITTLE ONES 

harder to take care of than baby Pear Slug. 
Nobody ever had to fly about with him nights 
— that's one sure thing. 

The child's mother was a neat sort of a 
person, though rather small to be called stylish. 
Her dress was glossy black. She was known 
among the summer folks as Madam Saw-fly, 
because instead of taking knitting or silk 
spinning work about with her, as many of the 
neighbours did, she carried a pair of saws wher- 
ever she went : never thought of leaving them 
behind her any more than she would have left 
her wings. 

It was lucky for the Pear Slug baby that 
his mother knew how to use her saws and 
didn't keep them just because she liked to own 
something most folks couldn't have. When he 
was a tiny fellow in an egg-shell, Madam Saw- 
fly, one morning in May, hid him safely in the 
under side of a pear leaf. She swung her two 
saws from side to side skilfully as a carpenter, 
making sort of a pocket in the leaf into which 
she put the egg. She knew how to fix baby 
Pear Slug's cradle so he wouldn't fall out 
when the wind blew : nor did she leave him 
until she was sure she hadn't cut through the 



WHOSE CRADLE WAS GREEN 33 

top of the leaf, which was the roof of his 
nursery. 

With the greatest of care she examined the 
leaf to be sure her work was well done and 
the baby snug and comfortable. The birds 
couldn't see him, nor the rain nor the sun dis- 
turb him. The wind sung him lullabies and the 
juices of the leaf made him grow. No wonder 
he stayed two weeks in so cool and airy a 
nursery. 

At the end of that time he thought he would 
like to see the outside of his home : or maybe 
he heard an oriole singing about the blue sky 
and cherry blooms. Anyway, baby Pear Slug 
cut a hole in the roof of his green nursery and 
crawled out upon the top of the pear leaf. 
He was dressed in a little white gown and 
wore a yellowish brown cap. While he sat 
there gazing around and not making a bit 
of fuss about anything, his little body became 
suddenly covered with slime — and that is 
what made such a disagreeable baby of him. 
He wasn't pretty to begin with, but after the 
slime began pouring out of his skin, spoiling 
his white dress and making his cap black, he 
was enough to discourage his mother ; only she 



34 MOTHER NATURE'S LITTLE ONES 

thought slime a proper covering for folks of 
his size. All her children were cared for just 
that way. In fact the pear-tree was the home 
of thousands of babies exactly like him, and the 
cherry-trees, too, for that matter. 

Baby Pear Slug had no> reason to feel alone 
in the world, though he wouldn't have cared if 
he had been so long as he found plenty to eat 
without any trouble. When he was hungry, 
which was most of the time, he ate the leaf 
upon which he lived. Being so small a child, 
he took bites no bigger than a pin-head : yet 
in a short time the leaf was entirely gone, noth- 
ing left of it but a skeleton. 

About this time baby Pear Slug outgrew his 
clothes; so he tore them off and ate them — - 
shoes and all. The clothes must have tasted 
good, because he did the same thing when 
he was through wearing his second, his third, 
and his fourth suits. The fifth time he shook 
off his old clothes, there was nothing left of 
them but ravellings which he didn't bother to 
pick up. 

When Baby Pear Slug looked around after 
eating his long dress and skirts he made up 
his mind that he must travel or starve. Lazy 



WHOSE CRADLE WAS GREEN 35 

young scamp that he was, he managed to crawl 
along stems until he reached another leaf where 
he found thirty other Pear Slugs at lunch. 
Of course he couldn't count, but he knew that 
the leaf was quickly eaten and somebody was 
trying to push him aside : so he stepped back 
and watched the folks march by. When they 
were out of the way he followed the slimy trail, 
crawling on and on until he found another leaf 
upon which to settle all by himself. 

The pear-tree must have felt sad enough, 
being destroyed leaf by leaf after planning 
through long, snowy days to look beautiful 
when summer should come at last. 

In a certain big book which the Pear Slug 
baby never saw, though his picture is in it as 
well as his family history, it is said that when 
there are great numbers of slugs feeding upon 
the tree, the sound of so many mouths eating is 
like the falling of fine rain upon the leaves. 
To be sure, baby Pear Slug wasn't to blame 
because he happened to be just who he was. 
Besides, though he didn't know it, he was 
trying his best to change himself into a Saw- 
fly. If the man who owned the pear-tree had 
cared to save its leaves he might easily have 



36 MOTHER NATURE'S LITTLE ONES 

killed the little slugs before they did so much 
damage. They couldn't have lived through a 
shower of dust. 

Baby Pear Slug almost choked to death one 
day when the wind blew a speck of dust from 
the road in his face. That was just before he 
left home : the very day he took off his ragged 
old suit, leaving it trailing behind him in his 
haste to travel down the trunk of the pear-tree. 
Poor little rascal, how he did go; as if the 
birds were after him. 

His new suit was light yellow, and for the 
first time in four weeks he was clean and dry. 
Down, down he went until he reached the 
ground. Tired from his long journey, and 
no longer hungry, baby Pear Slug crept into 
the earth, where he made for himself a tiny cell 
in which to fall asleep. 

It was almost a year before he awoke and 
stretched himself a bit before walking up his 
crumbling stairway to see if it were morning. 
Instantly he knew that it was time for him to 
be up and dressed. Off came his night-dress 
and away he flew — for he was a Saw-fly at 
last, in a suit of glossy black with four strong 
wings. 



CHAPTER V. 

MADAM ODONATA V CHILDREN 

There was once a little girl who was afraid 
of dragon-flies. She was sitting on a log near 
the pond when Madam Odonata, one of the 
most beautiful dragon-flies ever seen, darted 
past her in search of gnats. There are more 
than two thousand kinds of dragon-flies, yet 
they all go by the family name of Odonata, 
just as the little girl and her folks went by the 
name of Smith. 

It was foolish for any one to fear Madam 
Odonata, because she was not only harmless 
but a useful creature as well. The reason the 
little girl put both her hands over her mouth 
and ran away from the pond when Madam 
Odonata appeared, was because she had been 
told that dragon-flies sew up children's mouths 
and ears. She believed every one of the old 
stories she heard about the family: that they 

37 



38 MOTHER NATURE'S LITTLE ONES 

would sting horses ; and, worst of all, that they 
were snake doctors, who took special care of 
water-snakes. The little girl couldn't help 
wondering if the medicine was dew carried 
in buttercups, or pollen from the meadow flow- 
ers given to the patients in the form of powders. 

Mjadam Odonata might have told the little 
girl that there was not a word of truth in 
any of the old stories about her, only, as every 
one knows, dragon-flies can't talk to children 
who sit on logs by the pond. One must cross 
the borders of fairy-land before it is possible 
to visit with dragon-flies, and though the lit- 
tle girl had often tried to find its enchanted 
gate, her search had been in vain. She could 
only watch and wonder in the midst oi rustling 
leaves and cheering sunlight. 

The truth about Madam Odonata is this: 
she was a slender creature who wore her best 
gauze dress every day. Her head was large, 
but as she could move it easily it never made 
her any trouble. Her eyes were large too.' 
Four wings had Madam Odonata, wonder- 
ful wings, so swift and strong. 

In days long past it was a dragon-fly who 
won the prize when the insects tried their wings 



MADAM ODONATA S CHILDREN 39 

to see whose flight was the most graceful and 
perfect. 

Walking was a different matter. Madam 
Odonata couldn't walk a step, because her legs 
curved forward and were good for nothing 
except to catch the insects upon which she fed 
or to grasp a twig when she wished to rest. 
Yet who would care to walk if it were possible 
to fly as she could. The little girl didn't need 
to shut her eyes to imagine how it would seem 
to go skimming through the air instead of 
plodding slowly along on two small feet. 

Here, there, everywhere darted Madam 
Odonata, catching all her food upon the wing. 
Flies, moths, mosquitoes — even butterflies 
had to keep out of her sight when she was 
hungry, and the gaily dressed Madam was 
always hungry. 

A man whose name is so long the little girl 
would have stared had she heard it, once caught 
a dragon-fly. Wishing to see how much it 
would eat, he held it by its wings, which he 
folded behind its back, and fed it house-flies. 
In less than two hours it had eaten forty and 
wanted more. Madam Odonata wasn't nearly 
so dainty as she looked. Perhaps that is why 



40 MOTHER NATURE S LITTLE ONES 

her children were so greedy, for Madam Odo- 
nata had a large family living down in the 
pond, and not a child among the number seemed 
to know when he had enough to- eat. 

How surprised the little girl would have 
been could she have seen below the dark sur- 
face of the water. Not only were the dragon- 
fly children there, but hundreds and hundreds 
of other families lived in the pond year after 
year, never dreaming of another world than 
theirs. 

The water-lilies had a chance to know all 
about it, but not a word did they tell the little 
girl, though they sent her their love in the 
sweetest fashion — throwing her kisses for the 
breezes to catch and pass on. 

In the stem of a water-plant Madam Odonata 
laid her eggs. The little girl was down by the 
pond the very day it happened, and though at 
the time she wondered how a dragon-fly could 
disappear below the surface of the water even 
for a second without being drowned, she af- 
terward forgot all about it. The reason 
Madam Odonata didn't drown was because she 
carried a film of air under the water with her, 



MADAM ODONATAS CHILDREN 41 

just enough to keep her breathing for a little 
while. 

Scarcely were the little dragon-flies hatched 
before they began searching for food ; nor were 
they particular about what they ate — any- 
thing they were able to catch suited them. 
Baby mosquitoes tasted especially good. As 
for the baby mosquitoes themselves, it isn't 
likely that one of them cared how the game 
ended when they played with the pond folks. 
Nobody that lived beneath the lily-blooms ever 
worried. Life was merry while it lasted, and 
surely to be eaten up suddenly isn't the worst 
thing that could happen to one. 

More innocent-looking youngsters than the 
dragon-fly children never played " Tag " in the 
pond. The little rascals wore masks — a thing 
few of the water-babies ever did. The lower lip 
of a dragon-fly child is so made that it can be 
folded over its face. In the end of the lip are 
teeth. When the dragon-fly children were 
hungry they suddenly unfolded their masks and 
helped themselves to their nearest neighbours. 
They caught small fishes that way. How 
astonished the little girl would have been could 
she have watched the pond folks for half an 



42 MOTHER NATURE S LITTLE ONES 

hour. If only she could have seen the dragon- 
fly babies go fishing! 

To begin with, nothing this side of fairy-land 
would have surprised her more than to have 
known that the water-babies who wore masks 
were the children of Madam Odonata. They 
didn't look like their mother — the slender, 
pretty one. The longer they lived in the pond 
the broader and flatter they grew. 

Nobody knows how often the dragon-fly 
children changed their clothes in their nursery, 
but at last there came a time when they needed 
air, and one by one crawled up the stems of the 
water-plants to pull off their old coats where 
the lilies raised sweet faces to the sky. No 
fairy waved her magic wand nor touched the 
breathless children of Madam Odonata : but 
when the heavy cloaks they wore were cast 
aside, out stepped in radiant beauty dragon-flies 
where had been but clumsy water-babies, drip- 
ping from the pond. 

That day the little girl was playing with her 
dolls where the meadow folks w r ere singing 
in the sunshine. She never knew who wore the 
cast-off cloaks she found next morning on the 



MADAM ODONATA S CHILDREN 43 

lily-pads, but told the dolls she guessed the 
fairies had a dance the night before and left 
their wraps behind them when they fled at peep 
of dawn. 



CHAPTER VI. 

ONE OF THE RIVER - BABIES 

Beneath a stone in the river depths lived 
the youngest of the May-fly's many children. 
He was a strange-looking little fellow, but in 
his world, where the light was dim and all the 
folks were queer, it made no difference. He 
should have been thankful for his long, strong 
legs, and perhaps he was. For all any one 
knows, he may have made fun of the fishes 
because they had no legs at all. Not that 
making fun of the fishes would have been a 
safe amusement : because if there is anything 
in the world that a fish likes to eat it is May-fly 
children by the dozen. 

Lucky it was that the strange child under 
the stone was a fearless fellow who could 
dive, swim, or crawl as he chose, without 
trembling like the reeds by the river's bank 
at the least glimpse of a silvery fin. He must 
have thought the fishes chased him for the fun 
of it. More than once he was so nearly caught 

44 



ONE OF THE RIVER - BABIES 45 

he bumped his head against the roof of his 
house in his haste to escape. Water-babies 
never cry when they bump their heads, and the 
May-fly child probably laughed to think a 
great fish couldn't catch him. 

It doesn't make a bit of difference who told, 
but somebody says that the May-fly child used 
to steal rides on the fishes' backs. It isn't wise 
to believe all one hears nor to repeat gossip 
— but it is certainly true that the strange baby 
wasn't afraid of the biggest fish in the river. 
Having no fear of his worst enemies, he was 
happy as a May-fly child could be. 

From morning until night he climbed upon 
the rocks or danced upon the pebbles; went 
swimming or took a walk upon the river's 
bottom. In fact he did as he pleased all the 
time. When the frogs began their concerts 
he often floated to the surface of the river to 
have a look at the moon. He may even have 
said to himself in his own way: 

" ■ Twinkle, twinkle, little star, 
How I wonder what you are.' " 

So far as any one knows, the water-baby 
never had much to do with his neighbours : 



4 6 



MOTHER NATURE S LITTLE ONES 



he seemed to enjoy amusing himself. The 
neighbours had ways of their own and were 




not friendly. Of course the Caddis-fly chil- 
dren who lived in the river never would play 
with anybody. It would have been useless to 



ONE OF THE RIVER - BABIES 47 

try games with the Dobson family, because 
the Dobsons wouldn't pretend to play, but 
were always going about seeking some one 
to devour. They never missed a chance to 
eat May-fly children. 

There were baby Midges, Moth-fly children, 
Crane-fly youngsters, and plenty of others 
among the pebbles, whom the May-fly child 
passed without saying good morning. Most 
of the river-babies lived too short a time in the 
water to pay for the trouble of getting ac- 
quainted with them. They grew old faster 
than the May-fly child, whose home for three 
years was beneath the same stone where he 
put on his first new suit. 

Speaking of clothes : the May-fly child 
couldn't wear a coat any time at all without 
tearing it, and he always wore out the knees 
of his trousers and kicked the toes out of his 
shoes in a shocking way. Indeed, he was bare- 
footed most of the days of his life. His cap 
would get torn and his blouses as well. He 
might have been the raggedest baby in the river 
had he not changed his clothes often, for he 
was proud. 

When he wanted a new suit all he had to do 



48 MOTHER NATURE'S LITTLE ONES 

was to finish tearing off the old one. Fresh 
clothes grew upon him all the time : clothes 
that fitted perfectly except that they were a 
little tight for such an active child. It is said 
that he had more than twenty complete outfits 
before he was grown up ; an unheard-of thing 
among the insect folks. 

Whether the May-fly baby would have kept 
clean all the time if he had not lived in the 
water, is hard to tell. The river kept his 
face washed and saved him the trouble. No 
one ever said to him when he went in to 
dinner, " Let's see your hands, baby May- 
fly," because, though he played for hours in the 
mud along the banks, he was never anything 
but clean. 

Strictly speaking, though, the little fellow 
didn't go to dinner. Whenever he was hungry 
he walked into the garden for lunch, helping 
himself to the water-plants that grew all along 
the way. It was seldom that he cared to taste 
of anything else. 

In the garden he often met his brothers, sis- 
ters, and cousins. Of course no one knows 
what they talked about, but they must have 
had many a pleasant visit. Whenever a big 



ONE OF THE RIVER - BABIES 49 

fish came plunging through the garden, every 
water-baby scampered to the bottom of the river 
and hid beneath a stone. Surely when they 
met again at lunch they joked about the clumsy 
fish : perhaps every little cousin had a story 
of his own to tell about some narrow escape 
or daring adventure. 

So the summers and winters passed until a 
time came when the May-fly baby grew restless 
and uncomfortable in his quiet home. It is a 
time that comes to all May-fly children if no 
accident befalls them, and it must puzzle the 
little fellows greatly. Try hard as he would, 
the May-fly baby couldn't shake off his old 
clothes : something that never happened to him 
before. Though he kicked and squirmed, 
pulled and twisted, the clothes grew ever 
tighter. When his collar seemed choking the 
life out of him so that he gasped for breath, 
the poor child floated upward to the surface 
of the river. 

Then did the old coat split down the back 
and the May-fly child was free. Instantly he 
flew away, though he had never heard of wings 
and must have been surprised by the sudden 
change that came to him. Straight he flew to 



50 MOTHER NATURE'S LITTLE ONES 

the shore, where, wonder of wonders, he shed 
his new suit that he had worn but a minute. 
Such a thing never happens except in the May- 
fly family, and is enough to make any one stare. 
What must have been the feelings of the 
grown-up May-fly child, just from the river, 
when his beautiful new coat began splitting 
down the back and his first gauzy clothes fell 
to pieces, as though too frail for use. Lucky 
for young Mr. May-fly that it was quickly over, 
leaving him no time to worry lest his wings 
were gone for ever. 

Down the river floated the stiff old dress 
of the water-baby, while its owner flew where 
he chose through the summer air. Once, when 
he rested for a moment on a fence, a little 
child caught and held him by the wings. 

" Don't be afraid," she said to him, " I only 
want to look at you. Your front wings are so 
big and your other wings are so small, and 
what a limber back you have! I never saw 
a flying thing that could bend itself backward 
the way you do. Such a long, wavy tail you 
have, too — and your mouth is a queer mouth ! 
I wouldn't want one like it, because they say 
you can't eat with it — poor thing. You aren't 



ONE OF THE RIVER - BABIES 5 I 

a bit pretty, but of course you can't help that 
any more than you can help being called by 
so many different names. 

" I am so sorry you can live only a day that 
I shall let you go this minute," and away flew 
the captive, free once more in the glittering 
world. 

The Miay-fly lived more than a day. Two 
days, three days he floated about — then folded 
his wings by the river side and was seen no 
more. 



CHAPTER VII. 



BABY DAYS OF A WALKING - STICK 



There was never a more 
j t neglected baby in the world 

/ \ than the child of the Walk- 

ing-stick. His mother didn't 
seem to care what became of 
him, nor did she pay any 
attention to her ninety-nine 
other children. She simply 
let them drop from the oak- 
tree where she was feeding 
on leaves, and never thought 
of them again. 
It was a good thing for the baby Walking- 
stick that his egg-shell didn't break easily and 
that the cover couldn't fly open when. he fell 
to the ground. 

There he lay all through the autumn in an 
egg that looked like a bright black bean with 

52 




BABY DAYS OF A WALKING-STICK 53 

a whitish stripe on one side, until the North 
Wind covered him with a blanket of leaves. 
Then came the snow, beneath which baby 
Walking-stick slept all winter. 

When spring came again and the earth 
awoke, baby Walking-stick began to grow 
inside his egg-shell, and one morning in May 
he pushed open the cover at the top and came 
forth, — a little green Walking-stick. He had 
no wings and looked just like his mother, ex- 
cept that all the grown folks in his family wore 
brown or gray. His body was long and slen- 
der, and his six legs were long and slender too. 

He wanted the birds to think he was nothing 
but a bunch of grass stems fastened together, 
so they wouldn't eat him up. That was the 
reason he stretched his front legs straight out 
ahead of him and was careful to move slowly 
from place to place as he ate the tender leaves 
of plants near the ground. The little fellow 
grew so fast he had to change his clothes 
twice before he was six weeks old. 

If baby Walking-stick had known that he 
had ninety-nine brothers and sisters somewhere 
beneath the oak-tree, he might have wondered 
what had become of them. How it would have 



54 MOTHER NATURE S LITTLE ONES 

surprised him to have learned that many of 
them were not yet out of their eggs : yet such 
was the truth. Walking-stick children push Oiff 
the covers of their eggs and crawl out when- 
ever they get ready, any time during the 
summer. 

When the Walking-stick child was six weeks 
old, his clothes began to turn brown, and he 
was easily seen in the green grass. That didn't 
please him a bit, and as he was no longer a 
baby, he decided to climb the oak-tree. It was 
all right to live in the grass when his clothes 
were green, but when he became like the trunk 
of the oak-tree in colour, he knew enough to 
save himself from his enemies by going where 
he wouldn't be noticed. 

By the time Mr. Walking-stick, slow and 
easy-going, reached the branches of the oak- 
tree, he was tired and hungry. After he had 
eaten all he cared to and had stretched out to 
rest, he looked exactly like so many little sticks, 
and that was the way he wanted to look. 
There wasn't a bit of danger that the hungriest 
bird would care to taste of a twig. 

There he lived in the oak-tree the rest of his 
life, happy as any Walking-stick on earth. 



CHAPTER VIII. 



BABY ANT LION 



The baby Ant Lion wanted something to 
eat the minute he was hatched — and that 
something was an ant. He tried to catch one, 
but the ants kept out of his way : they didn't 
like the looks of his long jaws. 

There was no one to tell the baby Ant Lion 
how to catch ants : his mother was miles and 
miles away. She was a big fly with four wings 
and didn't look in the least like her own child. 
She was a good mother in her way, but when 
she was a child her mother left her to take care 
of herself, and she believed the baby Ant Lion 
would know what to do when he was hatched. 
And sure enough, he did. 

There were plenty o>f ants running about in 
the sand, too lively to be caught. " But I am 
hungry," said the baby Ant Lion in Ant Lion 
talk, " and I must have ants to eat. I will 

55 



$6 MOTHER NATURE'S LITTLE ONES 

dig me a pit. Down in the bottom of it I will 
go. The ants will come to the edge, slip over 
and slide down-hill into my jaws. Then will 
I have enough to eat. Never again will I be 
hungry." And he never was. 

Though baby Ant Lion had no shovel, he 
had the flattest kind of a head and strong front 
legs. Down on the sand he laid his flat, flat 
head, and with his strong front legs he scraped 
a load of sand upon it. Then he raised his head 
with a sudden jerk that sent the sand flying 
into the air. That is the way baby Ant Lion 
made a shovel of his flat head. 

He began his pit by first digging a large 
circle. Inside of that and a little lower down, 
he dug another circle, and so he went down and 
down until at the bottom of the pit he rested 
his shovel head and waited. 

In a few minutes along came an ant; a 
big, plump fellow. At the top of the pit he 
stopped and seemed to say, " What is this, 
I wonder? " The first thing that ant knew, he 
began to slide down-hill. When he saw the 
open jaws of the baby Ant Lion, he tried to 
scramble out. He was a strong ant, and though 
he kept slipping and sliding back into the pit, 



BABY ANT LION 57 

the baby Ant Lion was afraid he would get 
away after all And he was oh, so hungry. 

While the ant was trying to get out of the 
trap, the baby Ant Lion laid his flat head down 
and scraped a big load of sand upon it, and the 




^F 
















i 



next thing the ant knew, he was covered with 
sand. That wasn't the worst of it. Another 
and another load of sand was thrown upon him 
until at last he lost his footing, and down he 
went into the jaws of the baby Ant Lion. That 
was the last thing he ever knew. 

The baby Ant Lion, who had enormous jaws 
with teeth in them, said he tasted good: all 



58 MOTHER NATURE'S LITTLE ONES 

there was left of the ant, he put upon his head 
and threw out of the pit with a jerk, in the 
same way he shovelled sand. 

Day after day ants came to the edge of the 
pit, slid down-hill, and were eaten up before 
they had time to think. 

The baby Ant Lion grew fast, and before 
winter came he was too big and drowsy to 
want any more ants. He spun a cocoon of 
silk in which to wrap himself before he went 
to sleep. He didn't care a bit because sand 
stuck to the cocoon when he made it. Indeed, 
sand was his bed all winter long. 

When he awoke, he came out of the cocoon 
dressed in a new spring suit — with wings. 
The wings were not beautiful, and no one 
thought him a fine-looking fly; but he was 
pleased with life in the air and liked it better 
than being a baby Ant Lion at the bottom of 
a pit. 



CHAPTER IX. 



A LITTLE SAVAGE 



The Lace-winged Fly was beautiful to look 
upon. She was slender as a fairy and dressed 
in gauzy green. Her eyes, large and bright, 
were a golden colour. 

This dainty creature had a bad habit: she 
would use perfumery — and such perfumery. 
No one but a Lace-winged Fly would have 
liked it. Boys and girls thought it most dis- 
agreeable and never wanted to touch her after 
they found out that she used it. The Lace- 
winged Fly didn't want to be handled, and 
perhaps that is why she carried such bad per- 
fumery. 

This golden-eyed beauty had some children : 
she didn't know exactly how many. The little 
savage, tucked away in his egg at the end of 
a plant stalk, was one of them. 

" My child," she whispered, through the 
59 



60 MOTHER NATURE'S LITTLE ONES 

egg-shell, " remember that you must not eat up 
your brothers and sisters." That was a strange 
thing for a mother to say to a baby not yet 
out of his cradle, and the little savage must 
have been too young to understand what she 
meant, because the minute he got out of his 
shell, he began looking for some brothers and 
sisters to eat. He couldn't find one, because the 
Lace-winged Fly had known enough to keep 
her children far apart. 

Upon the stalk were many plant-lice: tiny 
green insects that fed upon leaves. The little 
savage saw them and thought they would taste 
good. He was a fierce-looking creature if he 
was small. His head was large, and there 
were big curved hairs on the sides of his body. 
The plant-lice were soft and plump, but so 
stupid they did not fear the little savage, who 
ate them by the dozen and always wanted more. 

They were called aphides, while the little 
savage as well as his brothers and sisters were 
known as aphis lions. 

Lady-birds were after the plant-lice, too: 
lady-birds and ants. The ants used them for 
cows and took good care of them. 

It is plant-lice that spoil the rose-bushes and 



A LITTLE SAVAGE 6 1 

make so much trouble in the garden. When 
the little savage ate them he was doing a useful 
thing for the man who owned the plant upon 
which he lived. 

The little savage, or aphis lion, grew fast, 
and there came a time when he hid in a curling 
leaf and spun for himself a tiny cocoon : this 
he fastened to the leaf by silken threads. For 
a long time he slept. When he awoke he lifted 
off the cap of his cocoon and crawled out. How 
happy he must have been w T hen he found himself 
changed into a golden-eyed Lace-winged Fly, 



CHAPTER X. 

ONE OF THE CICADA CHILDREN 

He was an old, old baby. Seventeen years 
he had lived underground. Near him, though 
he knew it not, were four hundred brothers and 
sisters, each living alone in a burrow and each 
waiting to venture into the sunlight. 

In the beginning there had been at least 
five hundred of the Cicada children : even their 
mother never knew their exact number. It was 
a large family to care for and kept her busy : 
if the birds ate a few dozen of the little folks 
before they were out of their eggs, and if ants, 
blackbirds, and pigs tasted of them in later 
days, she never knew it. Who could count five 
hundred children once a week to see if they 
were all at home? The Cicada mother couldn't : 
it was out of the question. She did her best 
to fasten the babies securely in their nurseries 
and then left them to the care of nature. 



ONE OF THE CICADA CHILDREN 63 

The nurseries were made in the branches 
of oak-trees. The mother Cicada built them 
herself, because she was a better carpenter than 
the father Cicada, who was a drummer by pro- 
fession. Just behind his wings, securely fas- 
tened to his sides and in plain sight, were a pair 
of kettle-drums — such wonderful drums. They 
were played upon with cords instead of sticks 
— cords inside the drums which were tightened 
and loosened in a strange fashion, causing 
sounds that were sometimes heard a mile away. 

From morning until night the father Cicada 
beat his drums, while the mother Cicada built 
the nurseries. She carried a set of carpenter 
tools beneath her wings just as the father 
Cicada carried his drums. Sometimes she 
made fifty nests in a single branch, leaving 
from ten to twenty eggs, placed in two rows, 
in each nest. It was an unfortunate thing for 
the oak-tree w T hen a large number of, cicadas 
made it their home, boring holes in all the limbs 
and twigs, causing them to die or making them 
so weak they were snapped and broken by 
every wind that blew. 

The old, old Cicada baby down in the bur- 
ro w r never saw his mother : neither had he 



64 MOTHER NATURE ? S LITTLE ONES 

any memory of the day when he left his egg- 
shell and walked out of the nursery — a lively 
little fellow with six legs. His colour was yel- 
lowish white except that his eyes and the claws 
of his front legs were reddish. On his shoul- 
ders were tiny humps in the place o>f wings. 
He looked around for a few moments, quickly 
deciding that he must in some way reach the 
ground. Running to the side of the branch, 
he loosened his hold and fell. How he dared 
do it was a mystery, and the wonder is 
that he was not killed. Soon afterward he dug 
his burrow and made for himself a little cave 
among the roots of the oak-tree. 

Four times within its narrow walls he 
changed his clothes, until at last, at the end of 
seventeen years, he grew tired of his dark home, 
and restless. More than once he had crept to 
the top of his burrow and looked about him. 
He liked to feel the warm air and to see how 
the world appeared above the ground. 

How astonished he must have been if he 
noticed the four hundred brothers and sisters 
poking their heads above the earth too. 

It was night and the birds were asleep when 
the baby Cicada finally ventured from his bur- 



ONE OF THE CICADA CHILDREN 65 

row. His old suit, that he had worn at least 
three years, was too tight : he crawled upon 
the trunk of an oak-tree to take it off. It was 
dry and hard, but he managed after awhile 
to make a long tear in the back of the coat : 
then bit by bit he pulled himself out of the 
old suit, crawled away, and left it hanging to 
the tree. 

Folks who saw him in the morning, dressed 
in gauzy black, called him the Seventeen-year 
Locust, though Cicada was his name. When 
he spread his great wings and flew through the 
sunlight it seemed like a fairy tale that he 
was the old, old baby who had lived seventeen 
years underground. Yet such was the truth. 



CHAPTER XL 



A WATER - BABY 



The Caddis Worm had never seen his 
mother. Where she was or what she looked 
like, he didn't know. Not that he ever asked 
any questions. Little folks who live in ponds 
and streams learn to keep out of the way and 
say nothing. It wouldn't be safe for them to 
talk too much or they might be eaten up by 
some hungry creature, fond of children. It 
frightened the Caddis Worm to even see a fish 
go swimming by, because he knew that fishes 
swallowed babies like him. 

He and a great many brothers and sisters 
were hatched at the same time from eggs that 
had been left on the floating-leaf of a water- 
plant. They knew without being told that they 
must make little houses for themselves to live 

in. 

66 




WATER -BABIES 



A WATER -BABY 69 

One brother was a slow-poke, though, and 
while he was wasting his time, along came a 
pollywog, and down went the little brother 
right into the pollywog's stomach. Another 
little brother was making fun of one of the 
sisters because the house she was trying to 
make of sticks didn't look pretty, when along 
came a minnow and down went that little 
brother : never was seen again. Another little 
brother was silly enough to listen to a tadpole 
who said, " Why do you make a house for 
yourself to live in ? You are such a handsome 
fellow — so slender and wriggling ! You 
ought not to hide yourself away where 
folks like me cannot see you! How I wish 
I were long and slim like you ! Do come closer 
and see how clumsy I am ! " That silly little 
brother went closer, and then he never was 
seen again, because the tadpole swallowed him 
as quickly as any old toad ever swallowed a 
fly. 

Another little brother said he guessed he 
wouldn't make a house because it was so much 
pleasant er to swim around the pond without 
one. It wasn't any time at all before a giant 
water-bug saw him and ate him up. 



JO MOTHER NATURE S LITTLE ONES 

It is hard to tell what might have become of 
the Caddis Worm if he had not been wiser than 
the little brothers. He built his house before 
he ate breakfast. This house, or case, was 
long and round as the Caddis Worm's body. 
It was made of tiny stones and grains of sand 
fastened together with sticky silk, which the 
strange baby knew how to spin, though no 
one had ever taught him. 

He might have made the house of sticks or 
leaves, or even of water-snail shells as many 
of the brothers and sisters did, but he liked 
stones and sand better. 

Inside the house he was safe and happy. 
He could crawl about the bottom of the pond 
or go swimming, house and all. When he was 
hungry he fed on water-plants. There wasn't 
much danger of anything happening to his 
head, because it was so tough and horny ; and 
the wisest fish would never dream that inside 
that long, round house of stones and sand was 
anything good to eat. 

Thus the Caddis Worm lived for many 
months, changing his clothes when they were 
so tight he wasn't comfortable in his old ones 
and couldn't breathe easily through his sides. 



A WATER- BABY 7 1 

Nobody knew just how many new suits he 
had while he was in the curious house, but 
surely he was contented and enjoyed his life. 

It isn't probable that he ever tried to find 
his mother, and if he had it would have done 
him no good, for she was not in the pond. 
When the mother was a baby, she had lived 
in the pond just as her children did, but that 
was long before; and when the Caddis Worm 
lived in his little house his mother was a 
Caddis Fly in the deep shade of the woods near 
the pond. She had four wings that could be 
folded closely together, and long feelers, called 
antennae, just above her mouth. 

Boys who w r ere well acquainted with the 
Caddis Worms almost never saw their mother, 
because she used to hide in the daytime and 
fly at night. They might not have known who 
she was if they had seen her. 

There came a time when the Caddis Worm 
felt that he must take a nap. He was oh, so 
tired. He wanted to go to sleep without fear 
of being disturbed, so he closed his back door 
and his front door with curtains of silk net- 
ting which he spun just as he had spun the silk 
with which he had glued his house together. 



72 MOTHER NATURE S LITTLE ONES 

Then he changed his clothes and slept, nobody 
knows how long. 

When he awoke he felt as if he couldn't 
breathe : for the first time in his life he needed 
air. He worked his way through the silk 
curtain at his front door and got to the top 
of the water as quickly as he could. Then he 
jerked off his old coat, leaving it in the water 
while he spread the wings that had been hidden 
beneath it — wings he didn't know he had until 
he tried to use them — and flew upward 
through the air, no longer a water-baby, but 
a Caddis Fly. 



CHAPTER XII. 



THE GIANT S BABY 



In his stone castle surrounded by the M,ud 
Hills, lived the giant's baby — and a terrible 
child was he, dreaded by all the folks who 
lived in the pond. Far away in a great city his 
father and his mother had met a tragic death, 
though the baby never knew what became of 
them. He was so cruel and selfish he would 
have driven his own mother away from the 
Mud Hills if she had ever called to see him. 
Not that she would have troubled herself, for 
the giantess was far from tender-hearted and 
would never have visited the pond again had 
she lived two hundred years. 

Having once got out of the water she and 
the giant kept out of it. They even changed 
their names when they went to the city, calling 
themselves Electric Light Bugs. They 
wouldn't have had any one know that they ever 

73 



74 MOTHER NATURE S LITTLE ONES 

lived in a country pond for the world. Every 
evening, in company with hundreds of other 
Giant Water Bugs like themselves, they buzzed 
around the electric lights on the street corners, 
bragging about their great size and what a 
fine thing it was to be the largest bugs in their 
part of the world and to have city folks talking 
and wondering about them. 

One night the giant and his wife banged 
against the electric light, just as many of their 
relatives had done before them, and stunned by 
the blow, fell to the pavement, where they were 
quickly trampled to death beneath the feet of 
hurrying crowds. 

At the time this happened the baby Water 
Bug was only an egg fastened to the stem of 
a plant: even then he made the pond folks 
stare. Different ones looked him over and 
wondered what sort of an egg he was. 

The Water Striders, slender, long-legged 
folks who knew the pond from beginning to 
end, declared that none of their friends had 
ever seen anything like him. They gathered 
in groups upon the surface of the water to 
talk about him, while every other minute one 
would row over to have a closer view of the 



the giant's baby 75 

giant egg. The Water Striders used their hind 
legs as oars, and were a most interesting family 
in many ways. They often gave parties among 
themselves, and seemed to enjoy life thor- 
oughly, though they were called a gossiping 
set by the Frog of the pond. He was such 
an old croaker, though, nobody paid much 
attention to what he said. 

From the muddy bank Mr. Toad-bug, odd 
and ugly looking as ever he could be, blinked 
at the great egg until his eyes almost popped 
out of his head — they were queer, bulging 
eyes anyway, almost as curious as Mr. Marsh 
Treader's long head. Mfr. Marsh Treader, by 
the way, was so well acquainted with Mr. 
Toad-bug that he offered to crawl over the 
water and examine the large round egg y but 
though he looked at it from every side, he 
couldn't tell what it was : and there was noth- 
ing left for Mr. Toad-bug to do but wink, 
blink, and w r onder until the day came when 
the baby giant ate him up, and the thin Mr. 
Marsh Treader with him. 

Another one of the pond folks who didn't 
know what to think of the giant egg was the 
Water Boatman, who wore a mottled coat. He 



?6 MOTHER NATURE^ LITTLE ONES 

was a famous swimmer, though a true air 
breather. When he went down into the water 
visiting he carried his air with him. His 
family, who had lived in the pond for years, 
used to swim down and bury themselves in the 
mud when the cold weather came, and there 
they stayed all winter. Yet the Water Boat- 
man had never heard of so big an tgg y and 
though he paddled around the pond from morn- 
ing until night asking questions, he couldn't 
find any one who knew more about it than 
he did. 

Then there were the Back Swimmers — 
those odd ones the Water Boatmen used to 
laugh at because they couldn't swim like other 
folks. Every one in their family had taken a 
look at the great egg on the plant stem, though 
that was all the good it did. Something the 
Back Swimmers used to do astonished the 
baby giant himself after he had outgrown his 

egg. 

Like the Water Boatmen, the Back Swim- 
mers never went to the bottom of the pond with- 
out taking a film of air with them, though in- 
stead of carrying just enough they always 
took so much air under the water they had to 



THE GIANT'S BABY JJ 

cling fast to stones or weeds to keep themselves 
from popping to the surface. It was too much 
like being tied to a balloon for comfort. 

One of the Back Swimmers bumped into 
the Giant Water Bug's child when he was mak- 
ing his first trip to the stone castle in the Mud 
Hills. He couldn't help it and didn't intend 
to do it, but the stone he tried to grasp was 
so slippery he lost his hold, and the next thing 
he knew — bang — he went right against the 
biggest bug he ever met. The unlucky fellow 
never told the rest of the Back Swimmers about 
it because the baby giant ate him, keeping on 
his way to the Mud Hills as though nothing 
had happened. Folks had to learn to keep out 
of his way. 

It was like the Giant Water-baby to choose 
the dungeon of his castle for his living-room : 
there he hid himself, darting forth to seize any 
who might venture too near. Little fishes were 
often dragged into the dungeon to be eaten up 
— frogs too : in fact nobody was safe who 
crossed the Mud Hills. Strangers thought no 
one was at home in the stone castle if they saw 
no signs of life about the place. Who would 



y8 mother nature's little ones 

have dreamed of the hungry one waiting in his 
dungeon for a bite? 

When the Giant Water-baby put on his coat 
and started out, all small folks, and big folks 
too-, got out of his way if they could. The 
mere sight of him was enough to scare a good- 
sized frog; so fierce was he and so powerful 
were the great arms in which he grasped his 
victims. His hind legs were used for swim- 
ming. He often bragged that no one in the 
pond could go faster than he, and the biggest 
fish there never chose to race with him. 

About the time young Giant Water Bug- 
grew tired of the Mud Hills, a schoolboy 
visited the pond. In one hand he carried a 
pail, in the other a rake. He wanted to know 
how the pond folks lived and meant to take a 
good pailful home with him. It so happened 
that he caught the Giant Water Bug first thing 
simply because the silly baby tried to capture 
the rake when it came dragging along the bot- 
tom of the pond, tearing away the Mud Hills 
and waking the echoes in the stone castle, 

Only a few more days and the baby giant 
might have left the pond on the strong wings 
folded beneath his coat — wings he never used. 




A SCHOOLBOY VISITED THE POND 



THE GIANTS BABY 8 1 

When the rake flashed into the sunlight the 
baby giant gave a mighty leap that landed him 
high and dry on the bank. 

Vainly the boy searched for his treasure 
while vainly the water-baby tried to find his 
way home. The time hadn't come when he 
could live in the air nor the sunshine. Long 
before the Frog of the pond began his song at 
evening the Giant Water-baby was dead. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

THE TIGER BEETLE^ BABY 

The Tiger Beetle had a baby : one of the 
worst-looking babies ever seen. He didn't look 
a bit like his mother when he was little, oh, 
not the least bit. 

She was a fine-looking creature: her form 

was graceful and her eyes were large and 

bright. Her dress was metallic green, trimmed 

with spots O'f yellow. Of all the beetles, none 

were so light of foot nor so swift of wing as 

the family to which she belonged. Walking or 

flying she came and went like a flash. All 

beetles have six legs, yet some of them are ever 

so slow and clumsy — can't walk fast to save 

their lives. Small boys catch them without 

half trying. 

Tiger beetles would be ashamed to be so 
82 



THE TIGER BEETLE'S BABY 83 

easily captured, and seem to enjoy playing with 
the boys, their wings glittering in the sunlight 
as they fly on and on down the dusty road. 
When the tiger beetles play " Tag " in this 
fashion, they often alight to rest, keeping their 
faces toward the boys who are chasing them. 
They will allow themselves to be almost 
caught, and then away they go, saying by their 
actions " Catch me if you can." 

During the bright, hot days of summer, the 
Tiger Beetle had the gayest kind of a time, 
though she never mentioned her baby to any 
one. She must have been ashamed of him, 
and small wonder if she was — because he was 
the greediest little scamp that ever hid himself 
in a hole in the ground. 

He was horrible to look at. His large, flat 
head was brownish black, and his jaws were 
frightful, closing with a clicking sound. At 
the ends of his six brown legs, which were 
close together near his head, were stout claws. 
There was a hump on his back near his tail and 
on that hump were two hooks. The part of 
his body above his legs was hard and brown, 
while the rest of his long make-up was of a 
whitish colour with two rows of brown spots 



84 MOTHER NATURE'S LITTLE ONES 

on his back. Along his sides were tufts of 
reddish hair. 

The ants and other ground folks in his neigh- 
bourhood must have been alarmed when they 
saw him crawl out of his egg-shell with his 
four black eyes wide open : probably scampered 
away fast as they could go. 

The Tiger Beetle's baby seemed to know 
from the first that the top of the earth was no 
place for him, as he began right away to make 
himself a burrow. There he lived until the 
following spring, when he became a full-grown 
tiger beetle on wings. 

One day when he was a little fellow he was 
waiting for a soft worm to come along. 
Worms and caterpillars often went out walk- 
ing near his home, and whenever he could 
catch one he pulled it in, took it to the bottom 
of his burrow and ate it up. 

The Tiger Beetle's baby was always hungry, 
not only hungry, but greedy. While he waited 
at the top of his burrow, his flat head sticking 
out a little at the top and his jaws wide open, 
a robin alighted near and said a few things 
in the robin language that frightened the Tiger 



85 

Beetle's baby worse than he had ever been 
frightened in his life before. 

Quick as lightning he dropped to the bottom 
of his burrow, and there he stayed a long time, 
until he was sure the robin had gone. She 
had said something about pulling angleworms 
out of their holes! The Tiger Beetle's baby 
was always afraid of birds after that. 

When the robin had flown away, a yellow 
caterpillar that had been hiding from the bird 
crawled rapidly over the ground on her way to 
a new feeding-place. It does seem as if she 
was careless to walk right into a trap, but the 
first thing she knew she was being pulled 
head first into a hole in the ground. 

The Tiger Beetle's baby had her fast in his 
jaws. It didn't do the caterpillar a bit of 
good to try to pull the little fellow to the top 
of the earth, because he was holding on to both 
sides of his burrow by the claws at the ends of 
his legs and the hooks that were in the hump on 
his back. 

It isn't likely the caterpillar ever knew what 
happened to her, so quickly was it all over. 
Before she had a chance to think, she was 
eaten up and the Tiger Beetle's baby was at the 



86 MOTHER NATURE'S LITTLE ONES 

top of his burrow, looking for more victims. 
Sometimes he even covered his head and his 
jaws with earth so a caterpillar wouldn't know 
he was there if she was watching for danger. 

There came a day when a boy played a 
trick on the Tiger Beetle's baby. He saw a 
hole in the ground, big around as a lead pencil, 
and wondering what was at the bottom of it, 
he lowered a grass stem into the burrow. 

When the Tiger Beetle's baby saw the grass 
stem coming, he thought it was a new kind of 
a worm tumbling into his cave, so he opened 
his jaws and waited. Down came the grass 
stem, and in a moment, snap went the jaws 
upon it. 

When the boy began pulling the grass stem 
out of the hole, the Tiger Beetle's baby, silly 
fellow, thought the worm was trying to get 
away and hung on tighter than ever, letting 
the boy pull him right into the sunlight on 
the top of the ground. How the boy laughed 
at the queer creature, not dreaming for a 
minute that he was looking at the Tiger 
Beetle's baby. 

The Tiger Beetle herself flew by just then, 
and seeing her child in trouble, persuaded the 



THE TIGER BEETLE'S BABY 87 

boy to play " Tag " with her by flaunting her 
wings almost in his face. The boy followed 
her, giving the ugly baby a chance to drop back 
into his burrow, where he lived in safety, until 
after many changes he was ready to come forth 
of his own accord to live in the sunshine. 



CHAPTER XIV. 

THE TRUTH ABOUT BABY TUMBLE - BUG 

Baby Tumble-bug was tucked away in an 
egg, sound asleep. Father Tumble-bug and 
Mother Tumble-bug, his parents, were two 
black beetles who lived in the barnyard. Of 
course they talked Tumble-bug talk, and no one 
can be sure of exactly what they said. It 
seemed to be something like this : 

Said Mother Tumble-bug : " Do you suppose 
the baby is warm enough ? " 

Said Father Tumble-bug : " Put some more 
blankets on him if you think he isn't. Here, 
I'll help you. We must roll him up snug and 
warm." 

Then they rolled baby Tumble-bug in so 

many blankets he was entirely hidden among 

them ; indeed he was wrapped in a regular ball 

of blankets — a ball bigger than his father and 

his mother put together. The blankets were 

88 

L.ofC. 



THE TRUTH ABOUT BABY TUMBLE -BUG 89 

nothing but dirt. The Tumble-bug family have 
always used that kind. Thousands of years 
ago, in Egypt, their ancestors set the fashion. 

It was a lucky thing for baby Tumble-bug 
that he was sound asleep, or he might have been 
frightened when his father and his mother 
began rolling him over the hills and the valleys 
on the way to his nursery. 

" It seems to me," said Mother Tumble-bug, 
" that under that tall grass by the fence is just 
the place that will suit us." 

They were looking for a spot in which to 
bury baby Tumble-bug. He was too young to 
be left on top of the ground, exposed to the hot 
sun and possible enemies. All Tumble-bugs 
spend their baby days in underground nurs- 
eries. 

" Just as you think best," replied Father 
Tumble-bug, standing on his head and getting 
in position to push the ball, while Mother 
Tumble-bug climbed on top of it. 

" Now I'm ready, Father Tumble-bug," said 
she, leaning all her weight toward the front 
of the ball. Father Tumble-bug, walking on 
his hands, kicked with his hind feet. Mother 
Tumble-bug pulled, and over went the ball. 



90 MOTHER NATURE S LITTLE ONES 

This was done again and again. Often as the 
ball went over, Mother Tumble-bug climbed to 
the top, ready for another start. - 

Not for an instant did she leave Baby 
Tumble-bug. Even when Father Tumble-bug 
gave a mighty kick at the top of a hill, she 
kept tight hold of the precious bundle, rolling 
over and over with it until the ball stopped. 

If Father Tumble-bug laughed, who could 
blame him? Mother Tumble-bug did look 
funny going heels over head down the hill. 

" Are you hurt? " he asked, running to her 
assistance. 

" No, thank you," replied Mrs. Tumble-bug. 
" I bumped my head a little, that is all/' 

Mother Tumble-bug's head was flat — ever 
so flat. 

" I was afraid the baby would get uncovered, 
but he is safe, the little darling. You must be 
more careful, Father Tumble-bug. I told you 
we should have gone the other way. I almost 
knew we were on a hill." 

Father Tumble-bug didn't say a word, but 
he looked cross as a bear. It wasn't so easy 
as it seemed to help roll that ball, by standing 



THE TRUTH ABOUT BABY TUMBLE - BUG 9I 

on his head and kicking with his hind legs. 
She ought to have told him of the danger. 

At last a place was found to put the baby : 
it exactly suited Mother Tumble-bug, so she 
and Father Tumble-bug shovelled away the 
earth beneath the ball. 

" Now run away, Father Tumble-bug, run 
away. I can get the baby into the nursery with- 
out any more help, thank you." 

Father Tumble-bug w T as only too glad to 
be excused. 

Mother Tumble-bug was a great worker. 
She wasn't a bit afraid of spoiling her hands 
nor her clothes. Upside down she went be- 
neath that precious bundle of hers, digging 
into the earth with her hands and feet, and 
tossing it above the ball. 

Slowly baby Tumble-bug, cradle and all, 
went into his down-cellar nursery. Mother 
Tumble-bug had a middle pair of legs with 
which she clung to baby Tumble-bug's bundle 
of blankets, at the some time pulling it down- 
ward. In a little while she was out of sight, 
and however she managed to dig deeper into 
the darkness of the ground is something known 
only to Tumble-bugs. 



92 MOTHER NATURE^ LITTLE ONES 

When her work was finished, Mother 
Tumble-bug climbed through the loosened 
earth into the daylight. That was the last 
she ever saw of baby Tumble-bug. When he 
awoke, he crept out of his egg and ate every- 
thing he found among the blankets. He out- 
grew his baby clothes in no time, and finally, 
when he was big enough to wear the same kind 
of a suit that his father and mother did, he 
left the nursery, poking his queer, flat head out 
of the earth — a baby Tumble-bug no longer. 



THE END. 



COSY CORNER SERIES 

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The numerous illustrations in each book are by well- 
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Each, i vol., i6mo, cloth . $0.50 

By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON 

The Little Colonel. 

The scene of this story is laid in Kentucky. Its 
heroine is a small girl, who is known as the Little 
Colonel, on account of her fancied resemblance to an 
old-school Southern gentleman, whose fine estate and 
old family are famous in the region. This old Colonel 
proves to be the grandfather of the child. 

The Giant Scissors. 

This is the story of Joyce and of her adventures in 
France, — the wonderful house with the gate of The 
Giant Scissors, Jules, her little playmate, Sister Denisa, 
the cruel Brossard, and her dear Aunt Kate. Joyce is 
a great friend of the Little Colonel, and in later volumes 
shares with her the delightful experiences of the " House 
Party " and the « Holidays." 



2 L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY'S 

By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON (Continued) 

Two Little Knights of Kentucky, 

Who Were the Little Colonel's Neighbors. 

In this volume the Little Colonel returns to us like an 
old friend, but with added grace and charm. She is 
not, however, the central figure of the story, that place 
being taken by the " two little knights," Malcolm and 
Keith, little Southern aristocrats, whose chivalrous na- 
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Cicely and Other Stories for Girls. 

The readers of Mrs. Johnston's charming juveniles 
will be glad to learn of the issue of this volume for 
young people, written in the author's sympathetic and 
entertaining manner. 

Big Brother. 

A story of two boys. The devotion and care of 
Steven, himself a small boy, for his baby brother, is the 
theme of the simple tale, the pathos and beauty of 
which has appealed to so many thousands. 

Ole Mammy's Torment. 

" Ole Mammy's Torment" has been fitly called "a 
classic of Southern life." It relates the haps and mis- 
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love and kindness to a knowledge of the right 

The Story of Dago. 

In this story Mrs. Johnston relates the story of Dago v 
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By EDITH ROBINSON 

A Little Puritan's First Christmas : 

A Story of Colonial Times in Boston. 

A story of Colonial times in Boston, telling how 
Christmas was invented by Betty Sewall, a typical child 
of the Puritans, aided by her " unregenerate " brother, 
Sam. 

A Little Daughter of Liberty. 

The author's motive for this story is well indicated 
by a quotation from her introduction, as follows : 

" One ride is memorable in the early history of the 
American Revolution, the well-known ride of Paul 
Revere. Equally deserving of commendation is another 
ride, — untold in verse or story, its records preserved 
only in family papers or shadowy legend, the ride of 
Anthony Severn was no less historic in its action or 
memorable in its consequences." 

A Loyal Little Haid. 

A delightful and interesting story of Revolutionary 
days, in which the child heroine, Betsey Schuyler, 
renders important services to George Washington and 
Alexander Hamilton, and in the end becomes the wife of 
the latter. 

A Little Puritan Rebel. 

Like Miss Robinson's successful story of " A Loyai 
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governor of Massachusetts. 

A Little Puritan Pioneer. 

The scene of this story is laid in the Puritan settle- 
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L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY'S 



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A Dog Of Flanders : A Christmas Story. 
Too well and favorably known to require description. 

The Nurnberg Stove. 

This beautiful story has never before been published 
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A Provence Rose. 

A story perfect in sweetness and in grace. 

Findelkind. 

A charming story about a little Swiss herdsman. 
By MISS MULOCK 

The Little Lame Prince. 

A delightful story of a little boy who has many adven- 
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Adventures of a Brownie. 

The story of a household elf who torments the cook 
and gardener, but is a constant joy and delight to the 
children who love and trust him. 

His Little Mother. 

Miss Mulock's short stories for children are a constant 
source of delight to them, and " His Little Mother," in 
this new and attractive dress, will be welcomed by hosts 
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Little Sunshine's Holiday. 

An attractive story of a summer outing. " Little Sun- 
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which Miss Mulock is so justly famous. 



COSY CORNER SERIES 



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By JULIANA HO RATI A EWING 

Jackanapes. 

A new edition, with new illustrations, of this exquisite 
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Story of a Short Life. 

This beautiful and pathetic story will never grow old. 
It is a part of the world's literature, and will never die. 

A Great Emergency. 

How a family of children prepared for a great emer- 
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The Trinity Flower. 

In this little volume are collected three of Mrs. 
E wing's best short stories for the young people. 

Madam Liberality. 

From her cradle up Madam Liberality found her 
chief delight in giving. 

By FRANCES MARGARET FOX 

The Little Giant's Neighbors. 

A charming nature story of a " little giant >? whose 
neighbors were the creatures of the field and garden. 

Farmer Brown and the Birds. 

A little story which teaches children that the birds are 
man's best friends. Miss Fox has an intimate knowl- 
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should take rank with " Black Beauty " and " Beautiful 
Joe." 

Betty of Old Mackinaw. 

A charming story of child-life, appealing especially to 
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t> L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY'S 

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The Farrier's Dog and His Fellow. 

This story, written by the gifted young Southern 
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the many admirers of her graceful and piquant style. 

The Fortunes of the Fellow. 

Those who read and enjoyed the pathos and charm 
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the further account of the " Adventures of Baydaw and 
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By FRANCES HODGES WHITE 

Helena's Wonderworld. 

A delightful tale of the adventures of a little girl in 
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Aunt Nabby's Children. 

This pretty little story, touched with the simple humo. 
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The Prince of the Pin Elves. 

A fascinating story of the underground adventures of 
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gnomes. 

The Water People. 

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By OTHER AUTHORS 

The Story of Rosy Dawn. By Pau- 
line Bradford Mackie. 
The Christmas of little Wong Jan, or " Rosy Dawn," 

a young Celestial of San Francisco, is the theme of this 

pleasant little story. 

Stisanne. By Frances J. Delano. 

This little story will recall in sweetness and appealing 
charm the work of Kate Douglas Wiggin and Laura E. 
Richards. 

flillicent in Dreamland. By Edna s. 

Brainerd. 

The quaintness and fantastic character of Millicent's 
adventures in Dreamland have much of the fascination 
of " Alice in Wonderland," and all small readers of 
* Alice " will enjoy making Millicent's acquaintance. 

Jerry's Adventures. By Evelyn snead 

Barnett. 

This is an interesting and wholesome little story of 
the change that came over the thoughtless imps on Jef- 
ferson Square when they learned to know the stout- 
hearted Jerry and his faithful Peggy. 

A Bad Penny. By John T. Wheelwright. 

No boy should omit reading this vivid story of the 
New England of 1812. 

Gatty and I. By Frances E. Crompton. 

The small hero and heroine of this little story are 
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The Fairy of the Rhone. By a. comyns 

Carr. 

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delight. It is most gracefully told, and accompanied by 
charming illustrations. 

A Small Small Child. By E. Livingston 

Prescott. 

" A Small Small Child " is a moving little tale of 
sweet influence, more powerful than threats or punish- 
ments, upon a rowdy of the barracks. 

Peggy's Trial. By Mary knight potter. 

Peggy is an impulsive little woman of ten, whose 
rebellion from a mistaken notion of loyalty, and her sub- 
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most interestingly told. 

For His Country, By Marshall Saunders, 

author of " Beautiful Joe," etc. 

A sweet and graceful story of a little boy who loved 
his country; written with that charm which has endeared 
Miss Saunders to hosts of readers. 

La Belle Nivernaise. the story of an 

Old Boat and Her Crew. By Alphonse 

Daudet. 

All who have read it will be glad to welcome an old 
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Wee Dorothy, By Laura updegraff. 

A story of two orphan children, the tender devotion 
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Rab and His Friends. By Dr. John 

Brown. 

Doctor Brown's little masterpiece is too well known 
to need description. The dog Rab is loved by all. 

The Adventures of Beatrice and 

Jessie* By Richard Mansfield. 

The story of two little girls who w r ere suddenly trans- 
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with many curious and amusing adventures. 

A Child's Garden of Verses. By r. 

L. Stevenson. 

Mr. Stevenson's little volume is too well known to 
need description. It will be heartily welcomed in this 
new and attractive edition. 

Little King Davie. By Nellie Hellis. 

The story of a little crossing-sweeper, that will make 
many boys thankful they are not in the same position. 
Davie's accident, hospital experiences, conversion, and 
subsequent life, are of thrilling interest. 

The Sleeping Beauty, a modern ver- 
sion. By Martha B. Dunn. 

This charming story of a little fishermaid of Maine, 
intellectually " asleep " until she meets the " Fairy 
Prince," reminds us of " Ouida" at her best. 

The Young Archer. By Charles E. Brim- 

BLECOM. 

A strong and wholesome story of a boy who accom- 
panied Columbus on his voyage to the New World. 
His loyalty and services through vicissitudes and dan- 
gers endeared him to the great discoverer, and the 
account of his exploits will be interesting to all boys. 



IO L. C. PAGE & CO'S. COSY CORNER SERIES 

The Making of Zimri Bunker: a 

Tale of Nantucket. By W. J. Long, Ph. D. 

This is a charming story of Nantucket folk by a 
young clergyman who is already well known through 
his contributions to the Youth's Co7np anion, St. Nicho- 
las, and other well-known magazines. The story deals 
with a sturdy American fisher lad, during the war of 
1812. 

The King of the Golden River: a 

Legend of Stiria. By John Ruskin. 

Written fifty years or more ago, and not originally 
intended for publication, this little fairy tale soon 
became known and made a place for itself. 

Little Peterkin Vandike. By Charles 

Stuart Pratt. 

The author's dedication furnishes akey*o this charm- 
ing story : 

" I dedicate this book, made for the amusement (and 
perchance instruction) of the boys who may read it, to 
the memory of one boy, who would have enjoyed as 
much as Peterkin the plays of the Poetry Party, but 
who has now marched, as they will march one day, out 
of the ranks of boyhood into the ranks of young man- 
hood." 

Will O' the flill. By Robert Louis 

Stevenson. 

An allegorical story by this inimitable and versatile 
writer. Its rare poetic quality, its graceful and delicate 
fancy, its strange power and fascination, justify its 
separate publication. 



3 4 1903 



j B RA* y 



OF CONGBE sS . 




